Past Imperfect
by Donna
Summary: Harm sees a face from his past.


Past Imperfect  
By Donna  
  
  
"Surely you don't believe that?" Mac asked, an incredulous look on   
her face.  
  
"Mac, the man's my client. It doesn't matter whether I believe him or   
not, he still has the right to the best possible defense," Harm told her   
as they strolled across the park. They were taking advantage of the   
gorgeous spring weather to enjoy their lunch break in the park near   
JAG headquarters.   
  
"You didn't answer my question," Mac reminded him, settling her   
sandwich on the paper across her lap.  
  
"No, I didn't, did I?" Harm responded, an amused look on his face as   
he carefully removed the cover from his salad bowl.   
  
His long-time partner and friend answered with her own look.   
"Which is pretty telling in itself."  
  
"Objection, your honor. Prosecution is assuming facts not in   
evidence," Harm replied in his very best courtroom voice.   
  
"Well, if the defense would be a little more cooperative…"  
  
"And do the prosecution's job for you, Colonel? Are you that   
desperate?"  
  
"Desperate?" Mac asked, pretending to choke on the very idea.   
"Nowhere near it. Just trying to help." Her voice became thoughtful.   
"You know, we might be willing to discuss a plea bargain."  
  
"A plea bargain, huh? That would seem to indicate that you're not   
quite as sure of your case as you would have me believe, Colonel."  
  
"Nonsense, Commander. My case is airtight. I'm just looking to save   
us all a little time and aggravation here," she bantered back.  
  
"Don't worry about me," he told her with a grin, "You just concern   
yourself with…" He broke off suddenly.  
  
Mac followed his gaze to an attractive young woman strolling towards   
them across the grass. She was small and thin, her blonde hair pulled   
back in a ponytail that hung down past her shoulders. Her jeans were   
well worn and she wore a bulky sweater in defiance of the temperate   
spring day. Her walk was neither the purposeful stride of the DC   
resident rushing to complete her errands, nor the excited bounce of a   
tourist, awestruck by the sights and sounds of the nation's capital.   
Instead, her head was down, eyes on the ground in front of her as she   
methodically put one foot in front of the other.  
  
"Friend of yours?" Mac asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Her voice spurred Harm into action. He jumped to his feet, sending   
his lunch flying as he hurried towards her.  
  
"Marilyn!" he called.  
  
She looked up at him. Coming up behind Harm, Mac saw that the   
woman's eyes were a deep, rich green. She froze. There was a brief   
flicker of…something…before she stepped back and lowered her eyes.   
  
"I'm sorry. You've mistaken me for someone else," she told him in a   
soft voice.  
  
He stepped closer to her. "Marilyn, it's me…Harm."  
  
The woman stepped back again, her hands nervously tugging on the   
strap of the bag over her shoulder. She shook her head fiercely. "I'm   
sorry. I'm not who you think I am and I don't know you."  
  
Before he could respond, she spoke again.  
  
"Please, just leave me alone…"  
  
Giving him one final, pleading look, she turned and fled.  
  
When Harm started after her, Mac grabbed his arm.   
  
"Not a good idea, Harm," she told him, her head indicating the police   
officer whose attention had been attracted by the encounter.  
  
He glanced at the man, nodded to him, and watched the woman   
disappear into the crowd. When she was no longer visible, he turned   
and walked back to the bench to gather his things.  
  
"Harm, who's Marilyn?" Mac asked.  
  
He paused a moment before he answered. She could see the pain in   
his eyes. "Marilyn is my sister, Mac."  
  
Before she could probe further, he threw his garbage in a nearby   
receptacle. "Isn't it time to head back to court? We wouldn't want to   
be late. Admiral Morris would have our sixes."  
  
Though there was still plenty of time, Mac knew that he wasn't ready   
to talk yet and decided to give him his space on this. She hurried   
along beside him, scarfing down the rest of her sandwich as she   
walked. She could almost see the wheels turning in Harm's head. The   
encounter in the park had certainly shaken him, and she was   
determined to find out why.  
  
Back in the courtroom, he managed to focus very well. His questions   
were pointed, his cross-examinations as fierce as always. Only   
someone who had known him for years, someone who knew him   
almost as well as he knew himself, could detect the tiny hesitations, the   
indicators that there was something else on his mind.   
  
Both were relieved when Admiral Morris called an early recess.   
Harm was out of the courtroom before Mac could even pull her files   
together. By the time she returned to her office, she could see him in   
his office with the phone balanced on one shoulder as he intently   
studied his computer monitor. With plenty of her own work to do,   
she decided to let him handle things himself…for now.  
  
By 2000 hours, the bullpen was quiet and still. The only lights still   
burning were those in the offices of Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.   
and Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. With a sigh, Mac closed the last   
file folder and stood to stretch. She could see Harm still sitting at his   
desk, scribbling on a notepad.  
  
After gathering her things and securing her office, she knocked gently   
on his door and pushed it open.  
  
"Harm? Let's go grab some dinner."  
  
He looked up at her and shook his head. "You go ahead, Mac. I'll see   
you tomorrow."  
  
"You misunderstand," Mac told him, walking across the room to   
stand in front of him. "I wasn't asking if you wanted to get dinner, I   
was telling you that you and I are going to go get some dinner and   
talk."   
  
"Mac,…" he started to protest as she gathered his jacket and cover   
and handed him his briefcase.  
  
"You need to get this off your chest, Harm. You'll think more clearly   
if you talk about what's going on in that brain, partner."  
  
He shook his head and smiled in surrender as he took the proffered   
items.  
  
"You win."  
  
"Don't I always?"  
  
"Not always," he protested as the two walked across the darkened   
bullpen.  
  
  
At Harm's apartment, Mac went into his bedroom to change clothes   
while Harm got dinner started. She had long ago learned the value of   
keeping a change of clothes in her car. Comfortably clad in jeans and   
a T-shirt, she stepped down into the living area to find Harm on the   
sofa looking through an old photo album. She sat down next to him   
and waited. With his finger, he gently traced a face in the photo.  
  
"Tomorrow would be her birthday," he commented softly.  
  
After a few moments, he handed her the album, opened to a photo of   
himself, Frank, Trish, and a young woman who did strongly resemble   
the one in the park.   
  
"Your sister, Marilyn?"  
  
"Step-sister, actually. Frank was divorced when he and my mom met.   
His first wife, Leslie, was…disturbed I guess you could say. He tried   
to get custody of Lyn, but in those days, it pretty well always went to   
the mother."  
  
He flipped the photo album back to an earlier photo, one taken at   
Frank and Trish's wedding. Harm was standing next to his mother,   
his face rigid. Standing next to Frank was a young girl about five   
years Harm's junior. Her blonde hair was neatly curled and her face   
was glowing as she looked up at her father and his new wife.   
  
"Unlike me, Lyn was thrilled about the marriage. I think that she   
saw mom as everything she ever wanted in a family. She was always   
following her around, doing anything mom asked of her and more.   
She even started calling her 'Mother T'. Lyn was a sweet kid, but she   
was connected to Frank, so I tried to avoid her as much as possible.   
Unfortunately, she liked to follow me around."  
  
"She spent a lot of time with her dad?" Mac asked, breaking into his   
story.  
  
"Well…sort of…we wouldn't hear from them for weeks, then we   
might get a phone call in the middle of the night that she was at the   
bus station. Leslie would hook up with a new guy or just get tired of   
the responsibility and put her on a bus. Every time Lyn would get   
settled in, her mother would show up again, apologizing and   
promising her that it would never happen again."  
  
"And Lyn went with her?"  
  
"Yeah, she always went. She told me once that me and mom and   
Frank had each other, but her mother didn't have anyone else. Lyn   
felt like she had to look out for her, take care of her. She always tried   
to look at it as a new adventure. She liked to hunt fossils and always   
told me going with Leslie took her to new places to look."  
  
"Is that what that little rock in your pocket is?" Mac asked when   
Harm fell silent again.  
  
"Yeah." He smiled and reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a   
handful of change and the small stone that Mac had noticed he always   
seemed to have. He looked at it a moment before handing it over to   
her. In the stone, there was the impression of a small flower. Even   
though the flower itself had probably died thousands of years before,   
it was preserved in intricate detail in the rock.  
  
"It's beautiful," she told him, handing it back.  
  
"She gave it to me once when I was feeling low about something…I   
don't even remember what it was now…but she told me to remember   
that no matter how insignificant we feel sometimes, we never know   
where we might leave an impression."  
  
"Pretty deep. So what happened to her?" Mac encouraged.  
  
"She started to change. I know that most teens rebel, but with her, it   
was like a complete turnaround. She had always wanted to be with   
me and mom and Frank, and then all of a sudden, she couldn't stand   
us. She was living with us by then…well, actually with mom and   
Frank. I was off at the Academy by then. She had a new boyfriend   
that no one but her could stand and she spent all of her time with him.   
Mom started seeing bruises on her arms and neck, but when she   
asked about them, Lyn would just get mad and storm off. Finally, she   
moved in with the guy, and we almost never saw her. The rare   
occasions that we did, she always seemed scared, but she never   
wanted to talk about it."  
  
Mac sat across the sofa watching her partner. His shoulders had   
tensed up, and his hands were clenched into fists. He didn't even seem   
aware of his reaction; in fact, he seemed to have even forgotten that   
she was in the room, so wrapped up was he in the painful memories.  
  
He continued. "Then one day her boyfriend, Eric, turned up as a   
floater. His hands were tied behind him, and he had been shot in the   
back of the head execution-style."  
  
Mac drew in a shocked breath, and Harm turned to look at her.   
  
"Turns out the guy was a mule for one of the local drug kingpins. He   
got too high an opinion of himself and held out on his boss. The boss   
man didn't take too kindly to that."  
  
"Where was Lyn?" Mac asked, moving over closer to him to lay a   
comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"No one knew. None of the neighbors the police talked to had seen   
her in several weeks. Finally, one of them told an officer that they had   
seen Eric doing some digging in the back yard some time back. They   
couldn't really recall when it was or if they had seen Lyn since then.   
A forensics team was called in to dig up the back yard."  
  
He looked over at her, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.   
  
"They found her body, wrapped in a blanket and buried behind an   
old storage shed. The autopsy showed that she had several broken   
bones, including a skull fracture. That's probably what killed her.   
She was there, Mac, buried in his back yard for months and no one   
knew."  
  
"I'm sorry, Harm," Mac murmured quietly, gently squeezing his   
hand.  
  
"She called me one night. Said that she just wanted to talk. I had   
plans to go out with some friends that night, so I told her I was busy.   
I asked her to call back the next morning."  
  
"Did she?"  
  
"No, she never did. I finally called a few days later. She told me not   
to worry; it wasn't anything important. She had even forgotten what   
she had called about."  
  
He looked at Mac, guilt evident on his face. "If I had talked to her   
that night, she might have asked me for help. I might have been able   
to do something."  
  
"Or she might not have told you anything," Mac told him.   
"Remember, I speak from experience here. Maybe she just wanted to   
talk, ask how you were doing, connect with you again. Maybe she did   
call to ask for help, but would have lost her nerve before she could   
ask. I know I did that a few times when Chris and I were together.   
I'd call Uncle Matt, fully intending to ask him to come get me, then   
end up talking about the weather. Or maybe she wouldn't have lost   
her nerve…maybe she would have asked for help, but by the time you   
got there, she might have changed her mind. That happens a lot, too.   
Face it, Harm. You don't know what was going through her mind,   
and you probably couldn't have saved her."  
  
Harm turned away, not commenting on her statement.  
  
"But you're going to keep feeling guilty anyway, aren't you?"  
  
"Probably."   
  
After a few minutes, she cleared her throat. "No wonder that woman   
in the park today startled you. You must have thought you were   
seeing a ghost."  
  
He turned to face her fully. "That's just it, Mac. I don't think it was   
a ghost, I think it was my sister Marilyn."  
  
"But you just said that they had identified her body, Harm."  
  
"We were told it was her, that they had identified her by old dental   
records, but I talked to my mom this afternoon. She doesn't   
remember the police ever asking about who her dentist was or for any   
sort of identifying information."  
  
"Maybe they asked Frank," Mac reasoned.  
  
"No, Mac. Frank was a basket case. Mom barely left his side during   
that time. If the police had asked him, she would have known."  
  
"Maybe they found the information in some of her papers or   
something."  
  
"Maybe, but I really doubt she ever saw a doctor or dentist after she   
moved out. I remember one of the few times I saw her, she had a   
really bad rash on her hands from some poison oak she had gotten   
into camping. I said something about seeing a doctor and she almost   
panicked…said that Eric had told her that she would be fine, and he   
would get really angry if he thought she doubted him."  
  
"So are you saying that you think the police were covering up   
something?" Mac asked him, confusion evident on her face. "Why   
would they do that?"  
  
"I don't know," he told her, running his fingers through his hair, "but   
there are just too many unanswered questions." He got up from the   
sofa and retrieved his briefcase. "I called the police department today   
to ask some questions. There was no one there who remembered   
anything about the case."  
  
"How long has it been, Harm?"  
  
"Not long enough that no one would even remember, Mac. This kind   
of thing just didn't happen in that area. Besides, I asked them to fax   
me some copies of the case files and this is all I got." He handed her a   
slim file containing only a half a dozen sheets of paper.  
  
"Doesn't seem like much of a file on a murder, does it?" he asked as   
she flipped through it.  
  
She thought carefully how best to word her next statement. "Harm?   
Did you stop to think that maybe there weren't many notes because   
they didn't consider it much of a case?" She held up a hand to   
forestall his protest. "Think about it. From their perspective, it was   
an open and shut case. They knew who did it, and they knew that the   
person responsible was already dead. Maybe they just felt it wasn't   
worth spending any more time or effort on. She wasn't their sister,   
after all," she reminded him softly.  
  
He nodded slightly, understanding her point. "I know, Mac, but it   
just feels wrong. The more I think about this, the more I try to look   
into it, the more questions I come up with."  
  
She started to answer when there was a loud, demanding knock at the   
door.  
  
"Expecting someone?" Mac asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Nope. Just put on enough soup for two," he told her as he walked   
over to peer out the peephole. The confused look he gave her when he   
stepped back told her nothing, and she got up to stand beside him as   
he opened the door.  
  
The men standing in the hallway weren't wearing nametags, but if   
they had been, those nametags would have declared 'Government   
Agents' in capital letters…probably in red and underlined. They   
were built like linebackers, tall and broad across the shoulders. The   
dark suits and ties with white shirts could have been chosen from the   
same closet. Add to that the dark glasses and the matching earpieces   
both wore and Mac had to fight the urge to ask if they were on their   
way to a twin convention.  
  
"Commander Rabb? Colonel MacKenzie?" the one on the left spoke.   
In perfect unison, the two flashed the badges and cards identifying   
them as US Marshals. "You're to come with us."  
  
"Where?" Harm asked, not really expecting an answer.  
  
"Someone wants to see you."  
  
Well, that certainly wasn't much of an answer.  
  
"Can you tell us who wants to see us?" Mac asked.  
  
"You'll find out when you get there," was the response she received.  
  
She looked over at Harm, a question in her eyes. He shrugged and   
passed the question back to her. He was willing to find out if she was.   
She nodded.  
  
"Okay," he told the duo, "we'll go."  
  
He went into the kitchen to turn off the soup while Mac gathered their   
jackets. The beautiful spring day had turned into a cool evening.   
With their backs to the two at the door, they didn't see the amused   
glance that the two men shared. The unspoken communications   
between the two lawyers rivaled that of any long-term government   
agents they knew.  
  
Within a remarkably short time, Harm and Mac found themselves   
ushered into a small mirrored room containing only a bare wooden   
table and four matching chairs.  
  
Mac sat on the edge of the table and watched Harm pace.  
  
"Why," he asked her, "do I suspect the impending arrival of a major   
pain in the butt?"  
  
"Maybe because it takes one to know one," Clayton Webb   
commented sarcastically as he strolled into the room.  
  
Mac interrupted their stare-down. "How about if I run out and buy   
some Preparation H while you two sit here and compare   
hemorrhoids?"  
  
"Funny, Mac," the two men chorused in unison, earning an amused   
grin from Mac and annoyed stares from each other.   
  
  
  
On the other side of the mirror, a young woman spoke to her   
companion without ever taking her eyes from the Naval officer in the   
other room.  
  
"Who is she, and why did they bring her?"  
  
"Her name is Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie. She's another JAG lawyer.   
They've worked very closely together the last few years…been   
through a lot together."  
  
"They're lovers?"  
  
Her companion paused. "I don't think so. This may sound odd, but I   
think they are probably closer than that even. When he went to   
Russia looking for his dad, she followed him; they've defended each   
other on murder cases, share a godson, and have generally been to   
hell and back for each other. Webb figured that if Rabb has any   
doubts about this, MacKenzie's the best person to talk him around to   
our way of thinking."  
  
Lyn stood a few moments longer, observing the comfortable   
interaction between the two, smiling when they ganged up on Webb.   
A touch on her shoulder drew her attention back to the agent   
standing next to her.  
  
"Are you ready?" he asked.  
  
"I've been ready for this for years," she smiled back as he led her   
towards the other room.  
  
  
"Truth isn't always a good thing, Rabb," Webb was saying.  
  
"Not good?"  
  
"I said 'not always' a good thing," Webb interjected.  
  
Mac could almost see Harm slipping into his courtroom demeanor.   
"The honest man has nothing to fear from the truth, Webb. It's the   
lies and the deception that we should fear. It's the lies and deception   
that cause pain, usually for innocent people."  
  
"You're wrong about that, Rabb. Sometimes lies and deceptions are   
the best way to protect an innocent person."  
  
Mac suddenly looked at Webb more intently. There was a note of   
sadness in his voice that she hadn't heard before. "What is it,   
Clayton?"  
  
Webb focused his attention on her. "It's about your partner here   
digging into things best left buried."  
  
"This is about Harm's sister, isn't it? It's about Marilyn Burnett?"  
  
If Clayton Webb had been a betting man, and had there been anyone   
to make this particular wager with, he would have bet that Mac would   
figure it out first. He would have won that wager, as well as the next   
one, the one about how Harm would react.  
  
Harm strode over and grabbed Webb, pushing him up against the   
wall.  
  
"What do you know about Marilyn?" he asked, his voice a low growl.  
  
"Harm, leave him alone," another voice interrupted.  
  
All eyes turned towards the young woman, still in the same jeans and   
sweater she had been wearing in the park.  
  
Harm whispered an incredulous "Lyn?"  
  
"Hey, Bulldog," she whispered back.  
  
Dazedly, he walked over, stopping inches in front of her. He reached   
up to touch her face, again stopping before any contact occurred. She   
smiled at him and stepped forward, placing her cheek in the palm of   
his hand.   
  
"See? I'm really here, Bulldog."  
  
Without a word, he swept her up in a bear hug, burying his face in   
her hair as he started to sob. Mac grabbed Webb by the arm and   
dragged him over to the one-way mirror, where the two found   
something supremely interesting to look at.  
  
Once Harm had his emotions under control again, he led Marilyn   
over to the table and sat down facing her. He didn't even know where   
to begin. Again, Mac came to the rescue.  
  
With an amused lilt in her voice, she asked "Bulldog?"  
  
Marilyn looked up at her. "When we were kids, Harm would get an   
idea into his mind and absolutely refuse to let go of it, no matter how   
ridiculous it might be."  
  
"Nice to know some things never change," Mac commented as she   
placed a hand on Harm's shoulder.  
  
"Gets seriously involved in things, does he?" Lyn asked.  
  
"'Obsessed' might be a better word to describe him," Mac told her.  
  
"Hey!" Harm interjected. "You two want to stop talking about me   
like I'm not here?"  
  
"Oh, Harm. Sorry. I forgot you were here," his sister teased.  
  
He glared at her momentarily before breaking into a smile. He loved   
it when the important people in his life got along.  
  
"Mac, this is my sister, Marilyn. Lyn, this is my partner, Mac."  
  
The two shook hands and voiced the proper formalities before Mac   
took the chair next to Harm. He leaned forward to touch Lyn's face   
again.  
  
"Mom and Frank will be so thrilled to see you, Lyn."  
  
She shook her head and held up a hand to stop him before he got too   
carried away with his planning.  
  
"They can't know, Harm. No one can know."  
  
He threw her a confused look before directing it at Webb.  
  
"Hell, Harm. You're not even supposed to know that she's alive." He   
took a deep breath and spilled the rest. "Your sister is in the Federal   
Witness Protection Program. Lyn has a new name, a new social   
security number, a new birthdate, and a whole new life."  
  
His news was greeted by stunned silence. Finally, Mac looked back at   
Marilyn and managed to catch her eye.   
  
"Eric's bosses?"  
  
The younger woman nodded. "Eric never thought I was very smart,   
so he never worried about talking in front of me. One night, he got   
really drunk…too drunk to even beat on me properly…and he started   
telling me about some of the stuff he was involved in. He laid out the   
whole supply line, starting with their suppliers in South America. He   
even named some of his clients. I got really scared. I knew that if his   
bosses found out how…verbal…he got when he was drunk, they   
would make sure he wasn't able to spill anything…or me either. I had   
also just found out that I was pregnant, and I decided I didn't want   
my child growing up in that environment. That's when I contacted   
the authorities. In exchange for my testimony, they would help me   
start over."  
  
"And they body they identified as yours? The one they found in your   
back yard?" Mac asked her.  
  
"There was no body. The feds sent in a team to dig up the yard, and   
then just told everyone that they had found a body. Since it was   
supposedly badly decomposed, no one had any reason to ask to see it,   
and they were able to just create the necessary paperwork."   
  
"You were pregnant?" Harm asked.  
  
She smiled like the proud mother that she was. "Yeah, Harm. You've   
got a niece." She looked up at Webb. When he shrugged, Lyn   
reached in her bag and extracted a photo of a little girl. Harm looked   
at it, smiling.   
  
"She's the spitting image of you, Lyn. What's her name?"  
  
"Amanda. She's awfully smart. She loves to read and draw, but she's   
a major tomboy, too."  
  
While the two siblings caught up, Mac went over to Webb and   
whispered in his ear. He thought for a moment before nodding and   
leading her to the door. He spoke with one of the men standing guard   
and watched as he and Mac headed down the hallway.   
  
By the time they returned, Harm had caught Lyn up on the important   
events in his life, on how Frank and Trish were doing, and on   
Grandma Sarah's stubborn refusal to leave the old farm in Belleville   
and relocate somewhere more modern and closer to her family. Harm   
found out that Lyn was happy. She was married to a man who   
treated her like a queen and her daughter like a princess. She assured   
him that there was nothing that he or Trish or Frank could have done   
differently. Her problems during her teen years had been caused by   
the same chemical imbalance that had tormented her mother. Now   
that she had been diagnosed and treated, she could have a normal life.  
  
Or at least as normal as life could be, living without a past and in   
constant knowledge that there were still those out there who would   
gladly end your life. The information that she had taken to the FBI   
had eventually closed off a very profitable operation for a well-  
connected drug lord. Though he had managed to remain free, his   
operations had suffered and he was still in the rebuilding stages. He   
had no idea where the information had leaked from, and she   
preferred to keep it that way. As difficult as it had been to leave her   
family behind, she still felt that it was the best and safest decision for   
everyone.  
  
"What's your role in this, Webb?" Harm asked the agent. "After all,   
the Federal Witness Protection Program is under the Federal   
Marshals, not the CIA."  
  
"I'm not involved officially, just as a friend. Marilyn is in town to go   
over some details of the investigation. After your encounter with her   
this afternoon, and all the digging you've done, the Marshal's offices   
got worried. Someone I know there happened to remember me   
mentioning your name and called to see if I had any ideas on how to   
get you to give up this quest. I thought about letting them kill you…"   
he told them, the smile on his face letting them know he was   
teasing…maybe…"But I told them that telling you the truth was   
probably the best way to get you to keep your trap shut."  
  
They all looked up as Mac reentered the room, carefully balancing a   
tray with four plates of cake and four ice cream cups. She sat it down   
on the table in front of them.  
  
"Harm had mentioned that tomorrow is your birthday. I thought you   
might like to celebrate together one last time, though if the cafeteria   
here is anything like most of the government buildings I've eaten at, it   
might not be much of a celebration," she explained with a smile.  
  
Harm gratefully squeezed her hand while Lyn looked up at her with   
tear-filled eyes.  
  
"I had almost forgotten," she told them. "My birthday now is four   
months later."  
  
There was a soft knock at the door. Clayton opened it and took   
something from the man outside. He walked over to the table.  
  
"Can't have a birthday cake without a candle," he told them. He set a   
small votive candleholder on the table. "I know it's not quite the right   
kind of candle, but it's all we could come up with on such short   
notice," he shrugged.  
  
Lyn smiled at him. "It's perfect, Mr. Webb. Thank you. And thank   
you, Mac. I think this may be my best birthday ever." Mac smiled   
back at her as Webb concentrated on lighting the candle, attempting   
to hide a blush.   
  
So it was that two JAG lawyers, a special assistant to the   
undersecretary who was actually CIA, and a young woman who was   
legally dead sat in a bare room eating slightly stale cake and soupy ice   
cream with plastic forks. All four would have said that it was one of   
the best parties they had ever been to.   
  
All too soon, though, it had to end. "I have to go, Harm."  
  
"I know, Lyn."  
  
Clayton Webb cleared his throat. "You understand that this meeting   
has to remain between the four of us, Rabb…why you have to stop   
stirring up questions about your sister's death?"  
  
Harm nodded. "You win this round, Webb."  
  
"No," Webb corrected, "Marilyn wins."   
  
"Come on, Webb," Mac pulled at the agent. "Let's take this garbage   
outside." Her intention was to leave Harm and his sister to say their   
goodbyes alone.  
  
Lyn put out a hand to stop her. "No, Mac. Wait." She walked over   
and took Mac's hand. "I know I don't know you very well…actually,   
I really don't know you at all…but I feel like I do. Harm has always   
made a lot of friends. That's just the type of person he is…but there   
are very few that he really lets get close to him…that he will open   
himself up to. He's so used to helping others that he almost never lets   
anyone else help him. From what I've seen just in the last hour or so   
and from what he told me about you, you've really been a good   
friend."  
  
"That's worked both ways, Lyn," Mac assured her. "He's been there   
for me as much as I have for him, maybe more."  
  
"Not from what he's told me. Either way, I'm glad he has you. I wish   
I could get to know you better, but the fact that you have my brother's   
friendship and respect puts you pretty high in my opinion."  
  
"Thank you," Mac told her, blushing. Impulsively, she reached out to   
hug the younger woman.   
  
"I expect you to watch out for him," Lyn told her.  
  
"I'm a marine, I can probably handle that."  
  
Lyn laughed with her, then stepped over to Harm. He leaned down   
and kissed her on the forehead. "I wish…"  
  
She put a hand over his mouth. "Don't, Harm. Wishing won't   
change anything. We made the decisions that got us where we are;   
now we just have to pick up and go on from there. We can't change   
the past, so let's just concentrate on our futures."  
  
He nodded, hugging her close. "You just be happy, Lyn, and take   
care of yourself. Remember, if you ever need anything, anything at   
all, just get in touch with me."  
  
"She can't do that, Rabb," Webb reminded him.  
  
"I know…but I need to say the words," Harm said sadly.  
  
She hugged him back. "Harm? I know you can't say anything about   
me to dad or to mother Trish or to your grandmother, but maybe next   
time you see them, you could give them an extra hug from me?"  
  
"Consider it done," he told her.  
  
With a sad smile, she pulled away. "I have to go now. My flight home   
leaves pretty soon."  
  
As she and Webb started out the door, Mac walked over and threaded   
her arm through Harm's, giving him an encouraging squeeze.   
  
"Lyn!" he called out suddenly, digging in his pocket as he walked   
over to her.  
  
"Happy birthday," he told her, holding taking her hand and placing   
something in it.   
  
Clayton Webb opened his mouth to comment and Harm rushed to   
assure him. "It's only a rock, Webb."  
  
Lyn looked down at the small fossilized flower impression resting in   
her palm.  
  
"You've kept this all these years?"  
  
He nodded. "Just remember the impression you leave behind."  
  
She hugged him one last time before heading out the door and back to   
the new life she had created for herself.   
  
Harm stood staring into the mirror, not really seeing anything until   
Mac came over and wrapped her arms around him.   
  
"You have the answers you needed, partner?"  
  
"I suppose I do, partner," he told her, returning her embrace.   
"Thanks for being here with me, Mac."  
  
"No problem," she reminded him, looking up to meet his eyes. "After   
all, isn't that what best friends are for?"  
  
  
The end.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
